Blessing and Burden
Oct. 13th, 2007 07:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lesyeuxvertsTitle: Blessing and Burden
Author:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
lesyeuxverts
Beta: the amazingsansa1970
Word count: 705
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: gen or preslashy Snarry
Prompt (spoilers, highlight to view): *"Snape watching the sword in the pool scene (UST, slashy or not, is totally fine)"*
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Written for7shotsofjager in the dh_predictions fest
In the darkness, shadows flock to light. They dance around it, moths eager for the torch. There's no light deep in the forest, deep in the fortress of cracking branches and whispering pines.
Severus steps away from the tree, brushing the rough bark from his fingers, and turns, facing deeper into the forest. He draws the shadows around himself and flicks his wand at his feet. Like a ghost, he rises and floats over the snow and is untouched by the cold.
Potter sings through Severus's bones – Lily's blood, Lily's fire, he calls to Severus. The whistle of the wind carries the night-song of the owl, and Severus follows it deeper into the forest.
The sword is cold in his hands, its metal unyielding to him. It was never meant to be his.
Severus grips it tight, his knuckles cold with the force it takes to hold the sword, and he pauses, still hovering above the snow, feet poised to leave no prints. The pool lies beyond him. There's a ring of trees like a fairy's girdle – enough to protect him, enough to hide him.
He sends the sword arcing through the air, hilt over blade in a silver whirlwind. The blade catches a faint beam of moonlight, echoing it and spiraling it back into the night, and Severus catches his breath when the sword splashes into the water, melting the ice with its passage.
Spells to safeguard it, spells to lay it straight and bright enough to gleam through the dark water, spells to freeze the pool again, a few spells to challenge Potter and pique his interest – Severus closes his eyes. He knows Potter.
He knows Potter. The thought is temptation and condemnation, blessing and burden. He knows Potter, knows enough to guide him and save him – he knows Lily's son better than she ever will.
Lily's son, lying like a lump in the infirmary bed, is safe and sound once again. The sheets are crumpled around him, and Severus smoothes them down without a word, his wand dancing in loops through the air.
Muzzy-headed from the potions, Potter stirs and turns toward Severus. He blinks, and he has Lily's eyes. Half-asleep, he looks at Severus without hate, without accusation or recrimination.
"Harry," Severus whispers, his voice echoing loud in the darkened ward. Harry smiles at him and brushes a hand across his face, covering his eyes, before drifting off to sleep.
Eyes closed, Severus whispers, "Expecto Patronum." He thinks of Potter – Lily's blood and bone, her sacrifice and her life, safe and sound – a silver doe bursts from his wand, dashing through the night in search of Potter.
Slow and stubborn, Potter emerges into the clearing at last. The Patronus has faded, and Potter summons his own light. It burns away the shadows, clearing his way to the pool.
Fumbling, Gryffindor to the core, Potter tries to Summon the sword. His face is wreathed in light, his cheekbones sharp and his chin jutting out with his defiance. He's been led thus far, and he reaches out, taking the final step for himself.
With fingers stiff in the winter wind, Potter disrobes, leaving his clothing in a pile with his treasures. His skin is pale in the darkness, the locket gold around his neck, and Severus closes his eyes.
A sword, a memory of Lily, a passing quest – "This is all that I will give you," Severus says, his voice lost in the depths of the forest. "This is all that is mine to give."
Potter wouldn't have accepted these gifts from Severus, but Harry – bare and shivering in the clearing, brave and cracking open the ice – Harry accepts them without question.
Blood of Lily's blood and bone of her bone, spirit of her spirit and sacrifice of her life – if Potter will never accept him or his offerings, it is enough that Harry takes this from him now.
It is enough that he will always carry this – the touch of Severus in his life, the sword heavy with duty and the memory made of wispy vapor, the blessing and the burden.
Severus burns the scene into his mind, a light to burn away the last shadows lurking there. It is enough.
Author:
lesyeuxvertsBeta: the amazing
sansa1970Word count: 705
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: gen or preslashy Snarry
Prompt (spoilers, highlight to view): *"Snape watching the sword in the pool scene (UST, slashy or not, is totally fine)"*
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Written for
7shotsofjager in the dh_predictions festIn the darkness, shadows flock to light. They dance around it, moths eager for the torch. There's no light deep in the forest, deep in the fortress of cracking branches and whispering pines.
Severus steps away from the tree, brushing the rough bark from his fingers, and turns, facing deeper into the forest. He draws the shadows around himself and flicks his wand at his feet. Like a ghost, he rises and floats over the snow and is untouched by the cold.
Potter sings through Severus's bones – Lily's blood, Lily's fire, he calls to Severus. The whistle of the wind carries the night-song of the owl, and Severus follows it deeper into the forest.
The sword is cold in his hands, its metal unyielding to him. It was never meant to be his.
Severus grips it tight, his knuckles cold with the force it takes to hold the sword, and he pauses, still hovering above the snow, feet poised to leave no prints. The pool lies beyond him. There's a ring of trees like a fairy's girdle – enough to protect him, enough to hide him.
He sends the sword arcing through the air, hilt over blade in a silver whirlwind. The blade catches a faint beam of moonlight, echoing it and spiraling it back into the night, and Severus catches his breath when the sword splashes into the water, melting the ice with its passage.
Spells to safeguard it, spells to lay it straight and bright enough to gleam through the dark water, spells to freeze the pool again, a few spells to challenge Potter and pique his interest – Severus closes his eyes. He knows Potter.
He knows Potter. The thought is temptation and condemnation, blessing and burden. He knows Potter, knows enough to guide him and save him – he knows Lily's son better than she ever will.
Lily's son, lying like a lump in the infirmary bed, is safe and sound once again. The sheets are crumpled around him, and Severus smoothes them down without a word, his wand dancing in loops through the air.
Muzzy-headed from the potions, Potter stirs and turns toward Severus. He blinks, and he has Lily's eyes. Half-asleep, he looks at Severus without hate, without accusation or recrimination.
"Harry," Severus whispers, his voice echoing loud in the darkened ward. Harry smiles at him and brushes a hand across his face, covering his eyes, before drifting off to sleep.
Eyes closed, Severus whispers, "Expecto Patronum." He thinks of Potter – Lily's blood and bone, her sacrifice and her life, safe and sound – a silver doe bursts from his wand, dashing through the night in search of Potter.
Slow and stubborn, Potter emerges into the clearing at last. The Patronus has faded, and Potter summons his own light. It burns away the shadows, clearing his way to the pool.
Fumbling, Gryffindor to the core, Potter tries to Summon the sword. His face is wreathed in light, his cheekbones sharp and his chin jutting out with his defiance. He's been led thus far, and he reaches out, taking the final step for himself.
With fingers stiff in the winter wind, Potter disrobes, leaving his clothing in a pile with his treasures. His skin is pale in the darkness, the locket gold around his neck, and Severus closes his eyes.
A sword, a memory of Lily, a passing quest – "This is all that I will give you," Severus says, his voice lost in the depths of the forest. "This is all that is mine to give."
Potter wouldn't have accepted these gifts from Severus, but Harry – bare and shivering in the clearing, brave and cracking open the ice – Harry accepts them without question.
Blood of Lily's blood and bone of her bone, spirit of her spirit and sacrifice of her life – if Potter will never accept him or his offerings, it is enough that Harry takes this from him now.
It is enough that he will always carry this – the touch of Severus in his life, the sword heavy with duty and the memory made of wispy vapor, the blessing and the burden.
Severus burns the scene into his mind, a light to burn away the last shadows lurking there. It is enough.
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Date: 2007-10-14 08:29 am (UTC)Loved it.
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Date: 2007-11-12 04:11 pm (UTC)I like the contrast in conceptualization here -- names are so very important.
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Date: 2007-11-17 03:36 pm (UTC)